


Hanukkahn't Resist You

by almaasi



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Teachers, Autistic Castiel, Fluff, Hanukkah, Jewish Castiel, M/M, Romance, Schmoop, Soft Dean, Teacher Castiel, Teacher Dean, puns, this is not a Christmas fic but has Christmas references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:15:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22026175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/almaasi/pseuds/almaasi
Summary: Dean made a Hanukkah greeting card for Cas, his fellow teacher and major crush. The card is also a pun. And also a pick-up line. And also maybe a mistake.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 58
Kudos: 732





	Hanukkahn't Resist You

**Author's Note:**

> My thanks to [Libby](https://cersei-the-truth-bombardier.tumblr.com/) and [Katie](https://crab-full-of-rocks.tumblr.com/) for the beta'ing, and extra thanks to Katie's Jewish friends and her dad for assistance with phrasing.
> 
> I'm Muslim, not Jewish, so apologies if anything here is inaccurate. Much of my info comes from my sister, [Amara](https://sweetdreamspootypie.tumblr.com/), who's much more knowledgeable about Judaism. I get that Jewish culture generally embraces questioning the rules and/or status quo, so that seemed appropriate for Cas as a character. Plus, apparently Misha Collins has a partly Jewish heritage? Learned that on Wikipedia. I also wrote this because for YEARS I've been writing Christmas fics for the feel-good winter celebration factor, but always felt weird about the fact it's a Christian (and unfortunately capitalist) thing and I'm not even Christian (or a capitalist). And there's so many other celebrations and cultures out there to enjoy with some positive representation. So here, have Dean being supportive of Cas' faith and helping a bunch of kids smack glitter on their dreidels.

This was really why Dean became a teacher, to be fair. Yeah, it was all about _teaching_ the kids, _nurturing_ them, and explaining how to do math with their fingers, because according to him there was nothing wrong with that, whether you were six years old, or scarily close to forty.

But there were days when Dean knew he wasn’t going to teach them anything directly, yet was convinced they’d leave his classroom having forged core emotional imprints that would last a lifetime, even once the day’s activities were forgotten.

The windows to the blue-grey schoolyard outside were steamed up and dripping with condensation, and all the paper snowflakes coloured in crayon were drooping. Dusk loomed even before the school day ended, and it was wonderfully stuffy in the classroom, but this was no time to get sleepy.

“Heyheyhey, go easy on the glitter, kid,” Dean said, lurching to rescue a pot of sparkles before it exploded across the table. “You just need enough to cover the glue, alright? Don’t make me get the mini vacuum out.”

He grinned as little Stephanie gave him a winning smile and showed him her clay spinning-top dreidel decorated with a glittery reindeer, which was more of a tentacle-headed blob with a swollen pink nose, but _he_ knew it was a reindeer, and _she_ knew it was a reindeer, so he nodded appreciatively. “Nice.”

The classroom was doubly crowded and loud, as Castiel’s class had merged in with Dean’s to play games in a circle of chairs, and they’d elected to stick around after, to save _two_ carpets from being forcefully bedazzled.

Dean was privately over the moon about this. Not only did he get twice as many children to hang out with, but Cas looked especially adorable today, all tousle-haired and sweater-soft, and the smell of his beeswax hand lotion filled the room in an unobtrusive way. Plus, he kept bending down with his hands on his knees, and Dean was the only one around who could appreciate his ass.

Amidst all the excitable murmuring of forty-five first- and second-graders enjoying their last hour of the semester, Dean still heard the jaunty songs playing from the tape deck on the bookshelf, underneath the tiny fibre-optic tree that changed colours every few seconds. Right now a rock version of _I Have A Little Dreidel_ played, and Dean knew, having assembled the mixtape himself, _I Want a Hippopotamus for Hanukkah_ was up next.

Biting his lip in a deeply content grin, Dean snuck up to the front of the class. Castiel now stood by Dean’s chalkboard, using tissues to swipe all the chalk dust out of the catchall at the bottom of the board.

“Dude,” Dean said, putting a hand on Castiel’s wide, warm shoulder. “You know you could do that after everyone goes home, right? You’re missing the fun.”

Castiel glanced at him: blue eyes, glitter on his cheeks. “This _is_ fun. I’ve been waiting to scoop this out for half the semester. You saved it for me, didn’t you?”

Dean’s brows pinched, a smile spreading.

“Look. Look how satisfying.” Castiel scooped slowly, and Dean watched as the thick wad of chalk dust crumpled up under his moving fingers, piling higher and higher until— Plop! It fell into the trash can he held in his other hand.

Dean huffed a laugh. “Okay.” He squeezed Castiel’s shoulder. “ _Now_ I get why you’re single.”

Castiel h’mphed. “You keep saying that. But you don’t know the real reason.”

“Don’t I?”

Castiel smiled at him, too secretive and too knowing to seem innocent. He glanced away, hearing a child call his name. He handed the trash can to Dean and floated off, leaving Dean to admire the black sequin angel wings Castiel had stitched into the back of his oatmeal-coloured sweater.

Dean put down the trash can, looking at the glitter and dust and Elmer’s glue on his hands. He reached for a Kleenex, only to have the ply separate and cling to the sticky bits on his hands, and he was left with shredded tissue and more junk on his fingers that didn’t wanna come off.

Resigning himself to the irrepressible chaos of it all, Dean sank back into the warmth of the knee-height madness, crouching down at each table and asking all the kids to show him how they’d decorated their dreidels.

He was at the third table, just realising that the carpet was a lost cause and there would be glitter embedded in it forever, when Castiel called out in his grumbly low voice, “Okay, five minutes, everyone! If your glue is still wet I want you to come and get a protective plastic sleeve. Slowly! Slowly. One table at a time.”

Dean knocked his knuckles to the fourth table, crouching then bobbing to get comfortable. “Alright. Let’s see your masterpieces, then.”

He pursed his lips and nodded to everyone in turn, all the while dishing out compliments and “Merry Christmas”es, as well as extra “Happy Hanukkah”s for those two kiddos who probably hadn’t heard it enough.

The energy and noise in the room rose to a crescendo as children gradually vacated their tables and ran to the cloakroom to get their coats and bags.

Through the streaky window, Dean could see older kids running past, chirps and cheers ringing out in the descending gloom as the term finally ended.

Castiel stood by the door, giving each child a farewell as they headed out into the cold. “Merry Christmas. Happy Holidays— Hanukkah sameach! Oh, you too. Chag sameach! Shalom.”

“Toda raba!” Kitty called back, flying out the door.

“See ya, kid,” Dean muttered, giving Aubrey a quick hug as she flung herself at his thighs. “Tell your mom thanks for her pie.”

Aubrey jumped, nodding. “Merry Cwissmas.”

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart. Alright, get outta here already. C’mon. I’m right behind you.”

“Single file, please!” Castiel caught his trenchcoat as Dean tossed it to him. He winced as he found it was still damp from lunchtime, but put it on anyway, grimace fading as the coat warmed to his body. “Brandy, I’ll have none of _that_ , thank you. Crista— Crista! Lunchbox. Yes. Good. Aaaahhhh...”

He did a last scan of the classroom, paused in the open doorway, letting the draft in.

“Come on, already,” Dean complained, popping the collar of his leather jacket up around the scarf his mom had knitted him. “Faster we see everyone off, the faster we get back here where it’s _warm_.”

Dean hopped down the classroom’s single step and followed Cas out into the yard. Hands deep in their pockets and shoulders pressed together, they followed the thick crowds of kids and staff to where they gathered near the open gates. Parents were out there in light-up Santa hats and scarves as thick as their thighs, arms open to welcome their kids in a fog of white breath.

Dean stood by the gates, beaming as he watched Shamika thrust her arms up from under her wonky hijab, just to show her daddy the glitter-covered dreidel she’d made yesterday out of clay. The guy looked kind of confused behind that black moustache of his, but the pair of them walked off together, Shamika explaining about how the four Hebrew letters on each side of the spinning top represented a story, a tale of a war won and the miracle of a light that never stopped burning – and, most fun of all for a five-year-old, the game they could play later.

Castiel waved to a few of his students, and shook the hands of a number of parents, wishing them well and thanking them for the little gifts, as new pens and candy and tiny wrapped boxes had been piling up on his desk all week. While the semester ended today, the eight days of Hanukkah would only begin tomorrow, so he looked forward to opening the gifts on the appropriate days.

Over the next minutes, the bustle dwindled to a few stragglers, who were swept up by guardians faster than the wind could sweep away the clacking dead leaves in the gutter.

Dean took a quick look around at the empty roadside, then nodded. “Finally. C’mon, I got ya something.”

“You did?” Castiel followed, sniffing, red-nosed. “Something _other_ than the all-natural hand lotion and the book coupons and the socks with guinea pigs on them?”

“Uh-huh.” Dean opened the classroom door for Castiel, following him in. “Whew. Hot in here.” He peeled off his jacket and carried it to his teachers’ desk, hanging it on back of his chair.

“So many gifts this year,” Castiel said, draping his coat over Dean’s. “Surely you’ve run out of ideas by now.”

The coats looked weirdly comfortable spooning each other, Dean thought.

“You might hate this one, I dunno,” Dean muttered, perching with his ass on the edge of the desk, giving Castiel a coy look. “I, uh. I’ve kind of been... holding off, askin’ you something.” He wet his lips quickly, aware Castiel was looking around the desk for a physical item. “Figured now’s a good time to ask, maybe, given we’d both be goin’ home to empty apartments this year, and all.”

“Oh?” Castiel met his eyes, realising there wasn’t anything to find on the desk. “What’s such an important question, then?”

Dean hummed, head tilting, fingers flaring off the edge of the desk, then holding on again. Then he dropped his chin to his chest. “God, it’s stupid. But. Um.” He slowly slid open his desk drawer, hand down to pull out the thing he’d been secretly decorating during his morning break. “Put together a li’l something.”

He blushed, and handed it to Cas.

There was a very good reason he’d drawn a blue reindeer with eight-pronged antlers with candle flames atop each spire, and an extra candle as the deer’s shammash, used to light the others. He’d thought he’d done a great job. But in this moment, as Castiel stared at the handmade greeting card, Dean doubted every damn thing he’d convinced himself was true, and reached to take back the card.

“Wait-wait, I’m not done,” Castiel said, leaning away from Dean’s reaching hand. “What does it mean? I get the deer with the menorah antlers, it’s very clever, and— It’s beautiful, Dean,” he insisted, when Dean tried to argue. “But I don’t understand the text inside...”

“It’s a pun,” Dean said, ears burning.

“I _know_ it’s a pun, Dean, I’m not _that_ oblivious. It’s almost Christmas; you’re a Christmas person; it makes sense for you. I just don’t understand what it’s meant to imply.”

“Well. It says ‘Will you go ho—’”

“‘Ho-ho-home with me’,” Castiel finished. He squinted. “What’s at your apartment? Is it a riddle? Or – a scavenger hunt. That’s it, isn’t it.”

Dean licked his lips. “Cas. Um.” He smiled nervously. Then he groaned, a hand over his eyes. “Dammit. I knew it was _bad_ but I didn’t realise how bad. Okay. Cas?” He lowered the card. “It’s a pickup line. I’m—” Slow breath out. “I’m hitting on you.”

Castiel squinted at him. “Why?”

Dean’s lip bobbed. “Uh.” He smirked. “Good question.”

“Is this a joke?”

“What? No!” Dean felt his heart lurch. “I’m not messing with you, man. I actually like you. Genuinely.”

Castiel flustered, looking confused.

“Look, I know I tease you about the chalk dust, or the colour-coded stationery drawer, or the whole eat-the-taco-fillings-first thing, or whatever, but— But those are... kinda the exact things I dig about you, Cas. Right next to five-thousand other things. Seriously. Not a joke. I say ‘this is why you’re single’ but – honestly? What I mean is ‘thank _God_ you’re still single so I get another month to work up the guts to aha-a-ask you out’. Or, y’know, whatever. If you want.”

Castiel continued squinting. “You... like me.”

“As a friend, yeah. And...” Dean tutted. “And in a friend-adjacent way...?”

A silence followed.

Then Dean blurted, “Ugh. You’re awesome. You really gonna make me say it? I have a crush on you, Cas. Or—” He hesitated. “Okay, it’s not a crush. Way too intense for a crush.”

“...Are you certain?”

Dean dipped his head a few times in a ponderous nod. He considered all the chest-aches and heart-flips and full-body tingles he’d been feeling for the last couple years whenever Cas was around, and said, with mildly hysterical blitheness: “Yea-huh. I’m sure.”

Castiel’s eyes widened slightly, and he laughed, pressing his forehead with a fist, then clawing his dark hair back until it flopped forward again. “Dean, I— Hmm.” He gave Dean back his card and turned away. Dean saw him lift up his trenchcoat, and started to panic, thinking he’d scared Cas off.

“Aw, man,” Dean breathed. “I shouldn’t have said anything. Cas— Cas, look at me? I still wanna be friends. Let’s just... forget this, okay? Please. Forget I made a move.”

“Forget? Why?” Castiel looked exasperated. “Dean, do you want to date me or don’t you? Make up your mind.”

Dean shrank down an inch. “Yeah?” He gulped, then confirmed: “Uh-huh. Yeah, I wanna... date you.”

“Good. Now that’s cleared up, here.” Out of his coat pocket, Castiel pulled a battered-up, unsealed lilac envelope, and handed it over. It looked like it had been in that pocket for months, all bent and soggy, every corner of the envelope white and ripped along the paper seams.

Dean stared at it. Then he opened it, and pulled out the card inside. It was unfinished, and was just a set of sketchy pencil lines as placeholders for proper art – Dean couldn’t even tell what it was meant to be – but above was a title: _I Hanukkahn’t Resist You_.

Dean opened the card, but it was blank except for his name. He looked at the front again. “Uh. I don’t get it.”

“It’s a pun.”

“I know it’s a pun, Cas, I just—”

“I’m... ‘hitting’ on you. In a romantic, non-violent way.”

Dean stared at him, heart starting to hop in his chest. “You serious?”

Castiel frowned. “Would you rather I was joking?”

Dean laughed softly, shaking his head, feeling a glow start to emerge from all of him, all at once. “Nah.”

Castiel took a few extra moments to process Dean’s facial expression, determined he was happy, and then Castiel relaxed, a soft and gentle gladness overtaking him.

Dean chuckled, thumbs stroking Cas’ card. “Soooo... is that a yes? You wanna come ho-ho-home with me? There’s take-out in the fridge. The scavenger hunt is finding the ones without pork so you can share.”

Castiel’s eyes sparkled, and he slid a hand to take Dean’s, making him twinkle like the night sky inside, a feeling which grew into a grin.

“Truly, Dean,” Castiel said, “I Hanukkahn’t resist.”

**{ the end }**

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! This is the 43rd fic I've posted in 2019, and about a week ago my AO3 word count passed 3 million words!! Thank you everyone who's stuck with me since 2012, and especially now, when your fortnightly Destiel fic is crammed between Good Omens and Deep Space Nine fics. I've waited a long time to be this productive, so I'm very, very excited about this, and plan to bring you SO many new fics in the coming year(s).
> 
> Chag Hanukkah sameach! And chag new year sameach too. ♥  
> Elmie x
> 
> P.S.  
> ☆ [Reblog this fic?](https://almaasi.tumblr.com/post/189948667050/hanukkahnt-resist-you)  
> ☆ [Reblog my Dean/Cas 3 million words fic rec!!!](https://almaasi.tumblr.com/post/189948806390/3-million-words-fic-rec-destiel)


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